


forget me not

by jetpackcrows (starglowed)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, this is like simultaneously fluffy and angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3790306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starglowed/pseuds/jetpackcrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>myosotis; it means forget-me-not in the language of flowers, and it's the only thing that is occupying hinata's mind lately.<br/>oh, and kageyama, too, with his stormy raven hair and often-sad smile and quivering hands.</p><blockquote>
  <p>"kageyama's left by himself in the setting sun, the feeling of small fingers still on the nape of his neck and the taste of drenched sea salt and platinum moonlight still lingering on his lips."</p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	forget me not

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: this is a _really_ old fic so don't judge me thanks
> 
> hello! here's a little piece based off of my favourite flowers, forget-me-nots  
> {lowercase intended + tumblr: jetpackcrows}

the sun is wandering, drifting, lost behind the heavy-lidded shadows of tall buildings, and the world is soaked in rose-tinted warmth and cosmic opalescence. in the haze of the evening, hinata too is wandering, battered trainers picking across the plant-twined asphalt and lachrymose streets; and without even realising, a sigh seeps out from between his iron-clad lungs. the smoke of his breath scatters on the wind like flower-pink petals, and it wraps around him, a delicate quilt of cherry blossom. he's blanketed in his own anguish.

his fingers are shaky, his palms painted lacquer reds and choked crimsons from the strain of a volleyball; and he's a lost wanderer, just like the sun, with starlit eyes and a synthetic smile and hair the colour of iridescent orange, like fire-blazing gasoline. they're a perfect match, the sun and he, the very embodiments of each other in lithe human and glowing plasma form; but today, hinata does not want to be destructive, a scorching patchwork of unbearable heat and smouldering gas, eternally disastrous. no, not at all. he wants to be light, just this once; brilliant radiance from a far, far corner of the universe, reaching even the deepest, darkest of crevices, something akin to feather-light dreams and gossamer hope and promises kept intact.

but although the sun is profuse and generous, its molten golden rays able to slip into the smallest of cracks, there's just one place hinata really wants to reach with his own burnishing shine. just one place, just one person, just this once. is it too much to be asking for?

it's ironic, really, how nowadays, wandering is the only thing he is able to do. wandering: what seems to be the most torn-up thing, familiar only to those intimate with the sweet embrace of sorrow and longing; and yet, it's what hinata is doing unfailingly every evening, every night. it's not that he's aching, to be honest, nerves closed off by clouded asphyxiation and mind blurred between quivering, seamless stitches of heartache and despair. no, what he's perceiving is more kindred to a sort of contemplation, constant reflection about himself and who he is and what he is able to do and how he feels about people. or more specifically, how he feels about a certain someone, someone with stormy raven hair and rainy irises and a thunderstorm aura. 

 _kageyama's been distant lately_ , hinata thinks as he cuts through the spider web alleyways, grey roads, dilapidated trails paving the way home, almost like a network of pulsating capillaries.   
  _i wonder what's up with him?_

these days, the only one he's been able to think about has been kageyama. kageyama, with his sharp tone of voice and his intimidating presence and his towering height; kageyama, with his often-sad smile and quivering hands and dark, hooded eyelids. he's a rusted kind of beautiful, really, bitterly intoxicating like absinthian acid, and hinata wants nothing more than to touch him, to unravel him, to really get to  _know_  him. kageyama's deeply private and closed-off nature has never bugged him much until now, and it leaves an acrid aftertaste on his tongue that he doesn't want, burning into his teeth and tearing at his consciousness. he just wants to  _know_. he wants to know what kageyama's family is like, what he thinks the universe amounts to, whether or not he finds the smell of new books sweetly enchanting, what he believes will happen after death swallows them whole. he wants to know.

everything around hinata seems to remind him of the mysterious setter, too. the tear-stained clouds in the sky hang pale and ashen and colourless, almost like the porcelain skin of kageyama's body; and the way those same clouds so often clash, abruptly bursting to pour forth rain, somehow remind him of the parachute silk of kageyama's jutting hip bones. not that he's ever peered wordlessly at the other's exquisite, agile frame; never. why would he feel the need to do  _that_? it's unthinkable. completely, utterly unthinkable.

as he rounds a salient corner- three rights and two lefts away from his home, three rights and four lefts away from kageyama's home- he passes by a flower stall, selling bright herbs and blossoms and plants of every kind. it's overexposed like a photograph, shabby and faded and lacklustre, but still radiating a homespun ambience that hinata can only otherwise experience when he's with kageyama.

"come on, come buy," the plump, pink-cheeked florist says to no-one in particular, nimble fingers raking through the piles and piles of blooms flourishing in the evening light. " _geranium sanguineum_ ,  _viola odorata_ ,  _euphrasia rostkoviana_ , i have them all. come on, come buy these stunning flowers. come on, boy with the orange hair. buy something for your lover, make them happy!"

for some reason, all hinata can conjure up in his mind is the memory of a chemistry lesson he'd had, just days ago. his class had been testing the properties of chemicals, forcing themselves to memorise atomic structures and electronic compositions and covalent bonds and melting points, and all hinata can remember is sweeping his scrunched-up notes aside and holding his head in his hands. it had been all too overwhelming for him. 

and he remembers thinking,  _what's the melting point of a living, breathing, loving human? because i've reached it. kageyama's melted me_.

and he remembers thinking,  _how can someone be so entrancing? i can't fight with him, not any more. i can't even look directly into his eyes. they blind me._

and he remembers looking over at kageyama, with his shining goggles and pristine lab coat on, and he remembers meeting his eyes by accident, and he remembers being blinded by that piercing glare.  _well, shit._

and he remembers watching kageyama completing his experiment with those star-studded fingers, long and languid, gripping everything with an otherworldly grace, and he remembers watching him grab the things he had needed, bottled liquid nitrogen and a small bunch of flowers and a tiny assortment of test tubes.  _clink_.  _clink_.  _clink_.

and he remembers scooting closer to him, watching him intently, trying to understand the experiment, and also trying to understand  _him_.  
_"hey, kageyama, can you explain this to me?"_  
_"shut up, dumbass."_  
_"kageyama..."_  
_"what?!"_  
_"please..."_  
_"fuck you, i'm just soaking the flowers in liquid nitrogen. it shatters them, and the petals eventually disintegrate. kind of like in a supernovae explosion... it's quite pretty, actually..."_  
_"wow, kageyama, you're so science!"_  
_"do you want me to fucking pour this onto your face so you disintegrate?!"_  
_"don't get so intense, stupid! i was just saying!"_  
_"whatever. well, do you even know the name of the flowers we're using?"_  
_"uh..."_  
_"hinata..."_  
_"they're daisies, right?"_  
_"you're such a fucking dumbass, it makes me cry, dear lord. these aren't ugly daisies, they're called myosotis. look it up when you get home."_  
_"wow!"_  
_"what now, fuck face?"_  
_"you're so flowery and cool, kageyama. i didn't think you'd have so much knowledge. what next, are you gonna start reciting in the language of flowers, huh? what do red roses symbolise?"_  
_"hinata, it symbolises that i'm going to fucking kill you."_

hinata grins to himself as he recalls their stupid, stupid exchange, one of many meaningless conversations, and without a crystal-clear thought, he bounds up to the flower-stall lady. she's holding the plants in her palms, all lush greens and spindly emeralds and soft sages, and she offers a wide, clarion beam to him. "would you like to buy anything, dear?"  
"do you have any  _myosotis_?" he asks, returning the smile, and she rummages through the mountain of colourful shrubs, a few falling to the ground. finally, she emerges with a handful of little, unkempt flowers, vintage periwinkle blue and beautifully threadbare.   
"are these the ones you're looking for?"  
"mm-hmm," hinata responds, handing over a crumpled yen note, "thank you. oh, and keep the change."

after that, he continues his wandering with a miniature bouquet in hand, sapphire-soft blossoms stirring in the wind and catching on the warm zephyr swirling all around him.  _why did i buy these?_ he wonders, as he wanders.  _when did i become like this, and why? walking aimlessly, contemplating for hours, purchasing flowers without anyone to give them to. and thinking about kageyama, too. when did this happen? what is this feeling?_

"you look like you're in love."  
hinata almost screams as the cool, collected voice cuts across the calm atmosphere and laces into his ears, through his veins, down his ribs, tugging at his heart-strings. he whips around, startled, the blood pounding in his body- and there's kageyama, just standing there, a dark silhouette against the dusky bittersweet of the sky.   
" _kageyama_ , what the hell. are you trying to give me cardiac arrest? how long have you been following me?!"  
"since we left practice," he drawls lazily, strolling up to hinata before dragging him down the road so they can sustain their walking. they linger in silence for a while, before he continues. "why've you been so distant lately, dumbass? you left practice without me. we've always gone home together, until now..."  
"i could say the same about you, stupid," hinata instantly spits back, speeding up to hide his darkening cheeks. he's gone red, and he doesn't want to show it, instead opting to gaze up at the thick tree rings that look like oil mixed with water against the vast empyrean. "i was considering just how _you've_ been off with your head in the clouds too, you know. why?"

kageyama doesn't answer, and simply lets out a deep, drawn-out whistle by means of a response. "i'm the one questioning you here, knob-head. and seriously, what's with you nowadays? just roaming around the distance to your home, pondering the meaning of life and suddenly buying  _myosotis_ , huh? what's going on?"  
"do you think i even know?" hinata bursts out, stopping suddenly and swivelling around on his feet to defiantly stare up at kageyama. the onyx-haired boy looks frustrated as always, eyebrows furrowed and mouth set straight and pupils devoid of any emotion, and hinata hates it, hates how this angry expression simultaneously irks him and makes blood rush to his brain in pleasure.  _why do i get dizzy whenever i look at you? why do you make me want to faint? why are you too much for me to look at? why are you so beautiful? why?_

"i wish i knew, kageyama," he says instead, gritting his teeth and keeping his gaze locked on the setter, who seems to be faltering slightly. filled to the brim with a newfound confidence, he goes on, blazing with cracked wildfire. "why don't you tell me, huh? tell me why looking at you makes me want to vomit, because you're just so goddamn perfect. tell me why i can't get you out of my head, you and your stupid fucking face and stupid fucking hands and stupid fucking smirk. tell me why when i see you, my heart swells and i can't hear anything and i get tunnel vision because you're the only one i can look at, you're so goddamn radiant and everyone else is dull and you're like a fucking aurora in the sky. tell me, then, if you want to know what's been bothering me for the past couple of weeks!  _why_ , kageyama? why?!"

he's panting by the time he finishes, and by then kageyama's slammed him against the wall of the alley they're in, pinning his arms above his head. "don't give me that shit, hinata," he snaps, and he's refusing to take in what the petite boy has just let out of him, choosing instead to keep his eyes guarded and heart under lock-and-key. "what are you even talking about? this is all irrelevant, for fuck's sake, and you're not answering my question."  
"don't you go dismissing my feelings like that, kageyama," hinata yells right back, struggling against the taller boy's iron-grip hold. "what do you think this is, huh? if you know, then please do tell me. it'd clear everything up, and would be pretty damn useful!"  
"i don't know what the feeling is, hinata!" kageyama roars, and all of a sudden he's lost it too, white-hot confusion and anger shooting through his bones and heating the very core of his soul. "what the hell? you think i'd know what these shitty little things mean? i want to know, too! why do i feel like that around you?!"

they're both breathless, heaving raggedly, burning up and burning everything down with their words. hinata's heart is palpitating, hammering against his chest relentlessly, and he squeezes his eyelids shut to stop the scorching tears from leaking out. his gasps are loud and he's all too aware of kageyama's body tightly pressed against his, the other boy's breath hot and desperate against his countenance.  
  
kageyama seems to groan, a low, guttural noise escaping from the back of his throat that makes hinata  _feel_  things he just shouldn't be feeling. "oh, fuck off," he mutters, ducking his visage and hiding his pressure-pink cheeks, flushed from the abrupt adrenaline rush. "this is silly. we should stop."  
"is that so, hinata?" kageyama says, his irises darkening to a crashing tidal blue, thick and powerful and like a tumultuous tempest unfolding behind his soul. his breaths are still uneven, still erratic as he tilts hinata's chin towards his, and- and this is too close for comfort, too close to be normal, but they don't care anymore, two vivacious hurricanes battling fiercely in the storm of their emotions. they're hopeless.

"you're so goddamn stupid, sometimes. do you even know what  _myosotis_  is?" he hisses, and the expression on his face is that of molten fury, a lambaste of acrimony, and hinata hates it, he hates it. he loves it, he hates it.  
_when did i become like this, and why? what is this feeling?_ __  
passion knocks the oxygen from his lungs, rips the breath from his throat, pours into his bloodstream effortlessly and consumes him completely like a turbulent tornado. he stares up at kageyama, really stares up at him and his ink-black hair and snowflake-white skin; and the look in his eyes is vertigo, a dizzying phobia of heights, and hinata is standing tip-toe right on the edge of a skyscraper. he takes the first step off of the tower, and that's when he finally realises, realises what the feeling is.  
_what is this feeling?_ __  
_when did i become like this, and why?_  
it's love. love. love.

as hinata swoops down from the very brink of the building, he seems to effloresce, grandiose jet wings blossoming from his shoulder blades and spiralling out towards oblivion. as he falls, falls, falls, he reaches up, up, up, and comes to terms with the strange sentiments he's been having. at long last.

he kisses kageyama.

"forget-me-not." he whispers against kageyama's feverish lips, violent and vehement even like this, and kageyama finally lets go of the wrists he's been pinning against the wall, choosing instead to clasp around hinata's waist. they are acrimony, fire, sinful as they indulge in each other in the space of just a few seconds, before hinata's drawing away, panting heavily, fringe all ruffled up and lips swollen red from the passion. 

"forget-me-not," he repeats between breaths, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before staring up at kageyama with a bold, brazen countenance. the charcoal-haired boy is in shock, mouth agape and eyes wide. "i looked it up, just like you told me to.  _myosotis_ ; it means forget-me-not. and trust me, i will not be forgetting  _you_  anytime soon."

with that, he shakes himself out of the other boy's restraining grasp and races away, as quick as always, his tiny figure disappearing from the arch of the alleyway. three rights and two lefts away from his home, three rights and four lefts away from kageyama's home.

and kageyama's left by himself in the setting sun, the tangibility of small fingers still on the nape of his neck and the taste of drenched sea salt and platinum moonlight still lingering on his lips. he brings his own fingers up to trace where hinata had been.  
"well, then," he murmurs, pointing his face towards the amber, tiger-eye sky.   
"well. well.  _shit_. i won't be forgetting you, either."


End file.
